the Poppy fields near the French countryside Quotes

“She oftentimes just slept in her room in an involuntarily solitary confinement adding to the explosive aura of enigmatic self- arrest.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“Giacomo was walking as usual but with an additional bounce in his step for he was after all going over to Delilah Gange’s house, hers was the best and the poshest of the village yet her disposition was kind and of humility yet polished and admirable.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“Beautiful and perhaps the most beautiful of the land though Bellatrix Garden was, an alluring enchantress owning up to her name to the most beautiful that France had to offer, what was surplus in exquisite splendour was compensated for by negate of intellect and mere existence of a hedonistic tendency.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“I was a lost soul at 19 when I achieved retribution and salvation in the form of a blonde, blue eyed woman named Delilah Gange. She was The Great Awakening of the 18th century.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“You are not stupid, and some would go as far as to call you cold, running on analytical rationality rather than emotions. You still honour me above all other mortals like I had been born with a halo atop my head, declaring me as someone superior. I do not understand why someone like you would ever do so. I was so used to either panting or gasping for breath that when I had an abundance of air to breathe, I had no idea what to do.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“What concentration of one being an English rose did one blonde, French woman need?”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“After what felt like ages and aeons and probably centuries, Pyrrhus took a long swig from a glass of whiskey and after winking at his reflection left the room, feeling taller than he was when he entered, way before he put on a façade of cunning and a shield of apathy and masqueraded amongst all others as a person of sane tenor.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“There is a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good coffee. And seeing how, at any given moment, you may be rapping on the door momentarily, I am impelled by moral compulsion to either wait outside till you have finished yours or sit here and continue speaking with you.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“When the strawberries in the bush reminded her of Bella’s lips, she knew she had to go back inside her house and had cleaned the clothes enough.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“The simplicity and serenity of the bland scene made him fantasize and project a life where things were simpler, where things were sweet in the way they were an everyday ritual, where every day was quiet and private, but you could live it in it forever, like the sound of Bellatrix laughing and how he was once allowed to hear it whenever he so pleased. He escaped it too.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“Despite the beauty of the gilt scene, Pyrrhus hated this place, loathed it, detested it more than a person had ever detested anything.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“There, amongst the green trees and plants and the sounds of crickets, harebells, and heaths, he could breathe for the first time since he had woken up that one day.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“What is an orphaned charismatic woman without her hellscape of a gossiping village?”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“There was nothing quite convicting, per se, about Bellatrix but that her looks isolated her from the others and her harnessing that raw, fragile power along with not caring for others made her even more intimidating.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“There sat his sister-in-law with her smooth, macramé, onyx hair, a cigarette clasped delicately between her long, elegant fingers. Her hair was dark not as dark as her eyes looking at the windows of the man standing in front of her was not worth the time and gaze. Her bright red lips were parted slightly to reveal her perfectly straight teeth except a crooked one of the bottom but one to not gaze deeply was not one to tell. Were her lips as red as blood or did they seem so against the snow of his skin? She was dressed in all black sitting cross legged, her right over the left and her cheeks were hollowed accentuating her delicate cheekbones. Despite the conjecture that she had hair that did not look the silkiest and her garb was giving a presumption of ragged ancestry, her general stillness of power, and disdain of sentiments coupled with the wine, cigarettes and the leather eclipsed her unruly appearance making the lady look like blasé royalty.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“It took a 30 minute walk a few seconds when daydreaming about Gange’s blonde hair and ocean blue eyes and ocean like perfume.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“Her blonde hair cascaded down her back and shone like they were the abode of an abundance of apollos. Her scent was that of roses and something else he could not place a finger on, a peculiar smell but it works with her royal face and soft mannerisms.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside

“Her scent was so distinct, one you could almost never forget, of ocean salt and roses almost as if she was Aphrodite herself, born out of the foam of the sea and despite the godly picturesqueness, she looked so simple and austere like she was just a damsel who had lived near the sea her entire life.”
― Aliza S., the Poppy fields near the French countryside